


does art imitate life, or life imitate art?

by amyelouise



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6097702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyelouise/pseuds/amyelouise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She is, as has been said, enigmatic. Inscrutable, impenetrable, mysterious. Again, am I? I don't think I'm necessarily mysterious, but would my friends say that I am difficult to know? To get a handle on? Probably. I think that I am pretty clear about where she and I are different, and very clear about the fact that she is not me. Oh, to embody half of what she brings to the table!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. dark descent

**Author's Note:**

> Although they are real people, this is purely fiction.
> 
> Enjoy!

**JUNE 2012**

They'd been seeing each other for only a few months. Her relationship with Mark had turned sour by the end of the previous year, their arguments becoming more and more heated, the sex less and less frequent. It was after the passing of her brother Aaron that she noticed the death of their partnership. Instead of slinking into the arms of the father of her children, she found herself pressed up against the warm chest of her ex co-star. His lips had muttered the right things and his hands had touched all the right places, and before she knew what they were doing, they had fallen into bed together. It wasn't the first time, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. She knew then, that if she couldn't find solace in her supposed life partner, then it wasn't going anywhere. She hadn't seen or spoken to David since he arrived unannounced to the funeral, so was surprised when she received a Christmas card from him in the mail. She hadn't sent him one in return, out of some misplaced loyalty to her boyfriend. 

They agreed to meet at the beginning of January, just to catch up. She knew they'd end up sleeping together. She kissed her boys and Mark goodbye and told them she'd be back in a few days. He knew it was his final goodbye kiss. He knew when she came back, it would be the end, but he let her go anyway. She hadn't planned to leave Mark for David, it just ended up that way. His marriage with Téa was long over, and the arrogance that pushed her away from him in the nineties had mellowed. What started as casual sex, a coupling of convenience, soon turned into something rather loving. The sex was frantic and incredible, but their afterglows lasted longer than before, and they often found themselves waking up in each other’s embrace, their bodies slick from sex and yet their faces plastered with smiles.

"I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere for lunch tomorrow?" She was sitting on his bed at his place in LA, he was in the bathroom opposite her, washing off a day's worth of TV makeup from his face. He was filming Californication, his Hank Moody stubble still dusted across his chin. She'd arrived in the States a few hours earlier, visiting him on set, ready to meet his co-stars, although if anyone asked, she was just passing through, meeting an old friend. Three weeks is how long she had to stay with him before her schedule demanded her elsewhere, yet it was still longer than what they were used to. Now, the sky outside was turning purple as the day drew to a close. It was the first time they'd been truly alone together all day, stealing kisses behind closed doors and in dark corners. She felt like a teenager, sneaking around behind her mother's back, and she wasn't sure it held the same appeal it did all those decades ago.

"Sure, that'd be nice. I know a few quiet places in Soho." There was that word again - quiet. David loved using that word lately. Their relationship was quiet, everywhere they went had to be quiet, and any friends they met together had to be quiet. She understood, really she did. He was still married, and in the eyes of the press, she wasn't single either, although she never understood completely his undying need for secrecy. Friends went out for lunch, and that's what they wanted people to think they were, right? Just friends? Gillian hummed a reply as she waited for him to join her in his bedroom. She was still fully dressed in her yellow summer dress, whereas she noted with some delight that he'd decided to strip himself of his signature black shirt in the bathroom. "I was thinking we'd order in tonight. Have some time alone together." She looked up from the window to her left and saw him stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his eyebrows wiggling at her. 

"I'd like that." She smiled at him as he walked over to her on the bed and stood in front of her knees. Lifting her chin with his hand, he bent over her slightly and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue sank into her mouth and she moaned at the welcome intrusion, her hands finding their way into his soft hair. His lips moved from her swollen mouth down her neck to the beginning of her collarbone and he suckled, making her throw her head back slightly to give him better access to the fevered skin there. He began to push her down to the bed slowly, his lips still attached to her clavicle. Her eyes shot open and her hands moved down to his chest, pushing him back to where he was. He removed his lips from her to voice a protest, a worried one, but she quickly captured them again, sending them both into a bruising hard kiss, where they both examined the insides of each other’s mouths as if they were trying to map it and commit it to memory. She stood up with him, the height difference still meaning his neck was craned down towards her. Her hands were back at his chest again, pushing him away, but this time she'd turned them around so he fell to the bed with a heavy thump. The roles were reversed, and he grabbed onto her waist to bring her closer to him between his parted thighs.

She shook her head slowly, staring intently down at him, and nudged his hands off her body. He left them limply by his sides and he returned her gaze, his fingers twitching at the thought of holding her. She bent down slightly, her hand reaching up her dress skirt, and it took him a while to realise that she was removing her already soaked panties. His erection began straining against his jeans as he watched them slowly slide down her toned legs before she simply discarded them by the side of the bed. Her hands reached for the button of his jeans, undoing it and pulling apart his zipper. The angle of her body hunched over his, undressing him, gave him the perfect view down the top of her dress, and his fingers lifted to trace the edge of her cleavage. Her hands swiftly grasped onto his and pulled them down to his side, more forcefully than last time, and her eyes held a ferocity that he hadn't seen before when they exchanged glances. She pressed his hands into the mattress for a few more seconds until she thought he had learned his lesson, and then thrust her hands against his shoulders, making him lie down flat on the mattress. His jeans were pulled off within seconds, his boxers travelling down his lean legs shortly after. 

He lay before her, completely naked atop the comforter, his breath escaping his parted lips in small pants as he watched her climb on top of him. Her hand grasped his length and he hissed through his teeth. "Gillian..." She gave his dick a hard squeeze and he yelped, the movements of her wrist stilling. She was warning him again - no touching, no talking. He relented, a small smile gracing his lips. Her hand resumed its movements, slowly stroking up and down, and David's face fell slack as he surrendered to the feel of her pleasuring him. Her legs straddled his, and he saw her bend forward slightly, his eyes slipping shut as he waited for the feel of her full lips wrapped around his cock. His loud gasp interrupted the silence of his bedroom as he realised that it wasn't her mouth he was sliding into, but her hot, wet folds. His neck tilted upwards to watch her slowly sink onto his length, her eyes watching him with rapture. She was hot and ready and so so tight and his hands clutched onto the sheets with such an intensity he was sure he would rip them. His hips gave an involuntary jerk into their new surroundings, and her fingernails quickly found their way to his fevered skin, digging in. Third warning, or was it fourth? Her body began to move up and down, slowly, and she tipped her head back, lost in the full feeling of having him inside her. It took all of his will power to not latch onto her hips and thrust blindly into her, to not leave little purple marks where his fingers would grab her with force. Her pace quickened, and he missed seeing her breasts move up and down with her body's movements. He felt her tight walls squeeze him and let out a breathy moan, hoping that hadn't broken any of her rules. For tonight at least, David Duchovny was on his best behaviour.

Suddenly she arched her back, changing the angle of his penetration, and her clit deliciously rubbed against his length on every down stroke. She whimpered once, which was the only noise she had made except for her breathing, and he was jealous of her ability to keep control as he'd been emitting a steady strain of grunts for a few minutes now. Her hands stayed by her side, swaying, and he could see her fingers twitching, but refrained from grasping onto them. He so badly wanted to begin lifting his hips, meeting her halfway, and more than anything, he wanted to rub that engorged clit of hers that lay so dangerously close to his dick. But as he noticed with a moan, she beat him to it, reaching her hand up the dress skirt that covered their joining to relieve herself of some tension. Her walls began to flutter around him and they both knew their releases were imminent. Her thighs began to shake either side of him as she lifted herself higher and higher, only to plummet down onto him again faster and harder than the time before. She was the only silent one when they came, him following her into oblivion, and their eyes locked as they soared. 

He expected her to drop lifeless onto his chest as she recovered, to let his hands come around her back and press her to him as he rained sweet kisses onto her damp hairline, but instead she lifted herself off of his softening cock and walked straight into his bathroom, closing the door behind her. He stared at her retreating back with a look of disbelief before a small smile played across his lips. They hadn't had sex like _that_ in a long time. He heard the run of water as she turned on the shower and contemplated joining her, but he looked back at his inviting bed and decided to exact his revenge underneath its soft covers. He must have drifted off because the next thing he felt was a dip in the mattress as she slipped her body next to his. Without opening his eyes, he pulled her back to his chest, missing the feel of her naked skin on his and kissed her shoulder. She hummed contently and his hands brushed lower on her stomach in response, coming to rest on the curls at the top of her thighs. Her hand came down to grasp his and pulled it back up to the safety of her torso, as her head burrowed further into the pillow that they shared. It wasn't like her to refuse a little mutual masturbation, but he didn't press her, she'd had a long day.

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, letting it linger for a while, before he heard a quiet goodnight escape her perfect little lips. "Sweet dreams, babe." And with that, he let his eyes close, content for now to just keep her close to him as they slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this fic progresses, you might see a few similarities between it and the brilliant work The Weekend written by justholdinghands and icedteainthebag which you can read here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6085644. I promise it is completely coincidence as I've been writing this for a while, and I've had an idea for the future chapters for quite some time.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors, I have no beta! This fic will explore a lot of different themes and it won't be your usual PWP gillovny fic. It's gonna be angsty. I hope you stick along for the ride! Thanks for reading! X


	2. darkness visible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although they are real people, this is purely fiction.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was just before eleven when they'd decided to leave his apartment. He'd hoped they could have spent the morning curled up together between crumpled sheets, but she'd insisted that he'd need time to go over his lines, adding something about not wanting to waste too much time on set later so they could come back to his bed sooner. He'd smiled at that, pulling her towards him in the kitchen, clad in only his black shirt from the previous day. Her little bare feet reached onto their tiptoes so their mouths could meet.

He wanted to drive her himself, as he was sure that a driver, or a taxi, would be too risky. Getting lunch together was one thing, but leaving the same apartment building together was something entirely different. For a brief moment it felt strange being on the wrong side of the road, but she allowed herself to relax and reminisce about just how many times she'd been in this position. Although her head was facing out the window, her eyes watching the rows of houses fly past, she saw his hand leave the steering wheel in her peripheral vision and felt it rest itself on her thigh.

"Do you ever think about how many times we've been like this?" Her voice broke the comfortable silence in the car, and she heard him hum to signal her to carry on. "Not much has really changed over twenty years, has it David? After all this time, I'm still a passenger in your car." She turned her attention to him then, and he seemed to be mulling over her words whilst keeping his gaze on the road. She watched the different emotions play through his eyes, and after he seemed to have come to his conclusion he gave her leg a gentle squeeze.

"As I see it, there's one difference." She tilted her head a little to the side, asking him with her body to continue, although she knew he couldn't see her. "You're now the passenger of my heart too." He looked at her then for the first time since they began driving and shared a smile with her. No, she thought, things weren't the same as they were back then. There were lines around his eyes and lips that weren't there before, and his dark hair was peppered with grey strands, yet he was still the man she had been attracted to all those years ago, just a little weathered by age and experience. His jawline was still sharp, his nose still prominent, his lips still full and pouty, and his eyes still shone with the intensity that used to overwhelm her. The LA sun made them look almost like an emerald green, but she loved them more when they were a deep hazel, dark from desire. She smiled back at him before he turned back to the road, and placed her hand over the one on her thigh, entwining their fingers.

They'd arrived at the 'quiet' restaurant a little after twelve, with the rest of the drive spent in companionable silence, his thumb occasionally rubbing against the soft skin of her hand. David pulled up outside a quaint little red brick building bearing a small Italian flag that moved slightly in the gentle breeze. There was ivy climbing up the outside wall that curled around the large bay windows. Gillian stepped out the car and the warm air of Los Angeles hit her, making her blink a few times. She'd never quite gotten used to the brazen heat of Los Angeles, and she hoped he planned to sit inside because she hadn't had the insight to put on suntan lotion. She was wearing a simple white blouse with her dark jeans, unbuttoning it just enough to leave him wondering. David walked from the other side of the car and grasped her hand tight, gaining him a look of surprise from his blonde counterpart.

"Like I said, this place is quiet, and the food is good. We'll be fine here." He paused for only a brief moment at the look of scepticism painted on her face - she wore it well, and he remembered she'd had many years to perfect it. "I know the guy who owns this place, we went to Princeton together." He began to walk through the wooden front door, his long strides exuding a confidence that she was sure was just for her to feel more at ease. Walking inside they were immediately hit by the blast of the AC and she almost sighed from the pleasure. The inside of the restaurant was homely, with pieces of artwork dedicating the walls. The far one was the same brick as the outside, and the rest of them were painted a deep wine red, but the windows around the room kept it from seeming too dark. There was a wooden bar just in front of them, and all the tables were covered with red and white checked tablecloths. She noticed with some relief that not one of the existing guests had even looked up from their meals, even though a little bell above the door signalled their arrival.

"It looks just like a little Italy," she said as she licked her lips, eyeing one of the pasta meatballs dishes that a woman to her right was tucking into.

"That's because it is!" A tall, burly man started walking towards them wearing a grey shirt and wearing a deep red apron around his waist. He was smiling with brilliant white teeth and before she knew it, he'd wrapped his arms around David in a friendly hug. "Duke! Man, it's been ages! You shoulda told me you were coming, and bringing such lovely company." He turned to Gillian then and embraced her too. "The name's Ant. Antonio. I've heard a lot about you over the years." She turned to her dinner companion and raised an eyebrow. She could have sworn he blushed.

"All bad I presume." Her voice held just a little bit of edge, but she hid it with a warm smile.

"Not recently." This time it was she who blushed, and she felt David's grip on her hand tighten slightly. Ant watched the two with fascination - how two people their age could be so shy when confronted about their feelings for each other was beyond him, but he mentally shook his head and outstretched his hand towards the quieter side of the restaurant. "C'mon, let's get you both a drink." He sat them down in a far corner, in a booth around a round table, and Gillian immediately felt David's warm hand on her thigh. Shuffling to the side slightly, she moved so she was sitting opposite him. The move did not go unnoticed by Ant, and he spoke up again to ease the tension. "How're the kids, D? I saw a picture of West on her Facebook, she's growing up to be a beautiful young woman!"

David's face shone with pride as he grabbed a menu handed to him by Ant. David Duchovny the proud Dad, it was a title that suited him well. "Yeah they're both great, Miller's just joined the school baseball team and West... well she really has grown up to be a beautiful young woman - she's playing softball at the moment and she's pretty fucking good at it." She smiled at him and turned to Ant. She could get used to Dad Duchovny, it almost made her fall in love with him all over again. She pushed that thought to the recesses of her brain and instead focused on the menu in front of her. "We'll both have some iced tea." Ant nodded and excused himself from their company, winking at Gillian before rushing through the doors to the kitchen.

She was still perusing the food choices with mock interest when David moved his leg up and brushed it along her calf under the table and she had to supress a grin. "Since when did you start ordering for me?" She still hadn't looked up from her menu, so David grabbed it from her hands and placed it down on the table, clutching at her fingers instead. She open her mouth ready to protest but she couldn't hide the laugh in her voice. "Hey! I was reading that!" He brought their hands down onto the table and lightly drifted his thumb over her palm, quieting her laughs.

"I started ordering for you when I started knowing what you were going to order." He nodded towards the menu on the space in between them. "For instance, I know that you're going to order the fried calamari to start and then the pork and beef meatballs with the tomato sauce and linguine for your main. Just like you always do when you go to an Italian." He paused and she looked at his dubiously. "And I know that when we've finished you'll tell me that you're stuffed, and you can't eat anymore, but then I'll tell you that it's okay if you want dessert, and you'll spend 20 minutes staring at the dessert menu only to come to the conclusion that you'd like 'Tiramisu with some single cream on the side please'." She laughed at his impersonation of her British accent and he delighted in it. "You've been doing it for years Gillian, you won't stop now."

"And what would you say if I told you that I was actually considering getting the carbonara today?"

"I would have told you that you were lying just to try and prove me wrong." He flashed her a smile and she laughed again, loud. God, he loved to make her laugh. "Face it Gillian," he said with an air of nonchalance, leaning back into the booth, "I just know you too well." 

"So are you saying I'm predictable?" Her fingers traced along the inside of his wrist and he shuddered at the contact.

"Oh I never said that. No, Gillian Anderson is anything but predictable. You continue to surprise me." He held her gaze as she continued to stroke his sensitive skin. "Like last night." He watched her pupils dilate from the other end of the table and he smiled to himself, he'd wanted to get her aroused, but as quickly as it happened, it also went away. He watched as she visibly snapped back, her eyes glassing over and her line of sight moving to the tablecloth. He could feel her fingers start to slip away from his and he wanted to clasp them to him and never let go, but he saw a woman approaching with their tea so he relented. She flashed him a tight lipped smile in response but it did nothing to comfort his nerves.

"Here's your iced tea, Duke." The woman said with a toothy grin as she bent over slightly to place the jug in the middle of the table. He didn't recognise her, but then again, a lot of people came up to him who he didn't recognise. She was young, pretty, and had a chest big enough that maybe if he saw her a few years ago he would have been interested, but now his attention was all on the petite blonde opposite him who looked like she was a million miles away. "Are you guys ready to order?" 

"I'll have some olives to start and then the carbonara please." Gillian's voice shocked him out of his reverie, and he found she was staring at him, challenging him. Her scrutiny was making him uncomfortable so he looked back at the waitress and cleared his throat.

"The vegetable lasagne and house salad on the side please." He shook his head and cut his hand through the air, giving them anything to do other than twitch after Gillian's fingers. "No starter. Thanks." She left, nodding and smiling, and he was pretty sure she gave him a suggestive wink as she walked away. He turned his gaze back to Gillian, and their eyes met instantly, their lips sealed tight, the air around them thick with tension. The rest of the restaurant was still a hive of activity, yet their booth was unnaturally silent.

"Do you ever feel like you're losing control of your life?" She hadn't blinked in what he was sure was well over a minute, and he nearly jumped at the sudden sound of her voice.

"Is this all because I could guess what you were going to order?" Suddenly he was transported back to a time where they sat opposite from each other, like this, but in a small basement office, suffocating lights and countless crew members surrounding them. All this because I didn't get you a desk? Her gaze on him reminded him of those bad days. Maybe not 1997, maybe a little later, but they'd never been particularly close. Things got particularly bad after the movie came out. That's when they wouldn't talk to each other for days on end, and if they did, it was harsh words spat through clenched teeth in one of their famous arguments. That's when they'd look at each other only in character, only address each other as Mulder or Scully, and yet at the end of the day, he'd follow her back to her trailer and slide into her from behind, leaving her to clean up the mess as he walked back to his pregnant wife. He'd conveniently forgot all the times he'd see a tear escape her eyes as he shut the door, or how many times he'd feel one fall down his cheek too.

"No." She actually smiled at him then - a real smile - and he let out the breath he had been holding. "I-", she faltered and dropped her chin, waiting a few minutes, and he allowed her the break. "I feel like I'm losing control a little." She poured both of them a drink. "I'm at a point in my life now where I need to get my life back together. I have kids who need me to be a good mother for them. I have a daughter who deserves to have a mother that can guide her through this important transition into adulthood." She took a sip from her tea, nervously glancing up at him. "And yet all I seem to be able to do is fuck things up. My life is taking turns that I didn't expect, and I feel like I have no control over it right now... it's like I'm an innocent bystander in my own story." She sighed and David realised for the first time how tired she looked. She'd obviously been thinking about this a while.

"Do I at least offer you some stability?" To say he was nervous for her answer was an understatement - he was dreading it. He squeezed his hands together by his sides so tight that his knuckles turned white, but he tried to keep his expression passive.

"I think... I think I'm surprised at the intensity of... this. It's very... consuming." Her gaze was still averted and he could tell she was reluctant to talk to him about it. They'd never been good at talking. They were good at fucking. Talking about their problems took too much of a different energy, so they liked to fuck them away instead. It never solved anything.

"And is that a bad thing?" God this isn't how he wanted this lunch to go. His voice was weak with worry, he didn't want to lose her to this. He didn't want her to run away. They were happy, weren't they?

"I don't know David." 

The conversation had taken such a sombre turn he almost relieved when the waitress returned with her olives. He watched her skewer them with a cocktail tick and pop them in her mouth, and he knew the moment was lost. They wouldn't talk about this again. As she impaled another olive, he wondered if they were going to talk at all.

//

As he suspected, the rest of the meal was spent in silence. She didn't have a dessert, and Antonio had taken him aside as she'd stepped into the car. "I don't know what's going on between you two Duke, but if she means as much to you as you've said, don't let her go. Give the kids my love, and take care alright?" With a pat on the back, he was doomed to spend an awkward hour with Gillian in his car. His head was full of so much, he had a hard time concentrating on the road, his mind would wander and soon he'd see his car drifting slightly to the left, his hands having gone slack on the steering wheel. Gillian shot him a few concerned looks, which was more than she'd done through most of their meal, and he responded by glancing in the rear view mirror at the cars behind him. He had to focus, but all he could think about was her. Was she not happy with him? He knew it had started off as casual sex, but he thought they were onto something more - something serious. 

"Pull over." Her voice was sharp and he could feel her eyes on him, probably shooting daggers.

"Gillian, I can't. We're already late for set and if I pull over now I don't know when we'll be able to get back into traffic." He glanced back at the long queue of cars following him, and thought he'd rather be run over by all of them at the same time than face what she had in store for him.

"Pull over David." He looked her way and she didn't look angry, or like she was going to be sick. Her face was void of emotion completely, and she'd turned her whole body to face him. Her voice was surprisingly calm and he was sure as soon as he turned the engine off Hurricane Gillian would tear him apart. Her composure was unnerving, and he found his hands were becoming slick on the wheel as he began to sweat.

"Gillian I really can't. But we can talk now. We don't have to pull over." God, she looked like she was going to hit him, and as she undid her seat belt he scrunched up his eyes to prepare for the hot pain of her palm against his cheek. But instead of slapping him, her hands went down to his jeans and she began to unbuckle his belt. His eyes burst open and he looked down at her body reaching over his, her head hovering dangerously close to his groin. He could see her blonde hair sprawled across his lap and he willed himself to keep his cool, but already he could feel himself harden at the sight. "Uh... Gillian. Don't do this now. I'm driving." Did his voice always sound that squeaky? 

"Like I said, pull over." And then all he could feel were her lips around his length, sliding up and down at a maddeningly slow pace. One of his hands left the steering wheel and rested on the back of her head, lightly massaging her skin there. Thank god he drove an automatic. He could feel her smile around him as she heard the faint beep of the indicator being flicked on. She'd won this one, but if this was what losing felt like, he didn't really mind. He turned off the road with an intensity that made a few of the other drivers honk at him, but all he could think about was how hot and wet she was around him, and his hand trailed down her back to grab her ass. He could still see her head bobbing up and down in his lap as he managed to manoeuvre his car down some dirty little track which was probably only used for this purpose. He put the car in park and turned off the engine and immediately sighed, surrendering himself to the pleasure. His hand that once occupied the wheel sank straight into her hair, pulling the loose tendrils into a pony tail in his hand.

"Evan's going to kill me." He groaned when she let him drop from her mouth, and he had a second long fantasy of pushing her head back onto him, but then again, he quite liked his genitals intact so decided not to risk it. 

"I'm sure he'll understand." She moved back onto her seat and started unbuttoning her jeans, shimmying them down her toned legs. She was wearing white lacy underwear and the sight of her ass clad in them made his eyes roll back into his head. She flicked a switch on the side of his seat and suddenly he lent back, and he knew he was going to get something much better than a roadside blowie. She straddled his fully clothed legs and he watched her pull her panties aside as he slipped into her. God he wanted to scream, she felt so good around him, but he settled for a low moan. This felt so good, and he nuzzled his head into her neck, his hands coming to unbutton her shirt so he could have a handle on her breasts. It had been weeks since he'd seen them properly and he was having withdrawal symptoms. "Hmm, no." His hands immediately moved to her shoulders and he pushed her back slightly, trying to stifle the groan the change of angle induced.

"Are you okay?" He was watching her face, looking for signs of discomfort. His hands dropped loosely around her waist, not holding, just supporting. She was still steadily grinding against him, and he was wondering what exactly she was saying no to. "Do you want to stop?" She placed her hand over his mouth and sped up, her panties creating a friction against his dick that was just this side of pleasure. She was looking down at them again, watching him disappear into her, and her jaw was slack, hanging open. He could see the flush creeping up her neck from her breasts and he longed to rip off her shirt. He was thinking about how wet and hot her insides were when he felt her muscles clamp down on him. He thanked Tea for teaching him to keep a spare change of clothes in the car for emergencies, because he knew he'd have stains all over his jeans. Oh god, and on the car. He hand crept inside her panties to rub against her clit and he wanted to help her. He wanted to push his thumb against her bud of nerves. He wanted to drag her outside the car and fuck her against the bonnet. He wanted to fuck her in the backseat. He wanted to do so many things but the way her muscles were tightening around his length, he could only sit there, fingers aching, watching her with wide eyes as she fucked him.

Her back was arched now and he forgot they were in a cramped car with a steering wheel mere inches away. Evan would kill him for being late but, there are worse ways to go. He lay there, gasping for air as he watched her do all the work. Somehow it was more erotic than the previous night. She was on some kind of power trip and he was reaping all the benefits. He'd always had a weak spot for Gillian in control, it turned him on like nothing he'd ever experienced before. In the beginning, she was green and lost and he'd enjoy pressing her up against a wall and having his way with her, but as they grew older, he finally saw the benefits of sitting back and enjoying the ride. And there was no ride he enjoyed more than Gillian. She'd told him once "you're a slave to the pussy", and he wondered why she thought it was such a bad thing. He found the answer to that in the worst way, humping everything with fake tits and a pulse that so much as looked his way. He wasn't like that anymore, although he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a slave to _her_ pussy.

Gone was the melancholy of their lunch. This is what they were good at - fucking their problems away. He could hear his breathy moans and he watched the windows become foggy from their pants, and a distant part of his brain registered that this wasn't a good thing, they needed to talk, but he was thinking with his other head for the time being and the thought was banished from the forefront of his mind as soon as he felt her lean back even further, practically onto the wheel. Do the horns still work if the engine's turned off? She was emitting a steady low hum now, and he could feel her walls fluttering against him - she was close, he was close. God he loved it when that happened. Her hand had become looser against his mouth and he decided he'd had enough of sitting around doing nothing. He kissed her palm and in one swift motion, brushed her hand out the way with his arm and grabbed onto her waist, pulling her down as he thrust into her hard. She gave a small yelp and her eyes stared back at him as he emptied himself into her contracting walls.

"Do you have any tissues?" He moved his head forward to capture her lips but she pushed him back with her hands which were balled into fists and gave him a look akin to betrayal. She raised her eyebrow at him and he shrugged his shoulders, still feeling pretty lightheaded. God she looked so good post-orgasm, but he preferred it when she was snuggled into his side, very naked, and not sitting on his lap looking like she could kill him.

"I think there's some in the glove box." She unceremoniously, yet gracefully, stepped off him and opened the driver’s door, ready to slide out, but he caught her waist, earning another look that made his balls shrink. She'd always had a high tolerance for whatever they did in the bedroom, or any other room, but sometimes he was scared that he'd push her little body too far over the edge. "Did I hurt you? Are you okay?" Her eyes softened then, and she brushed her lips with his, her hand stroking his jaw.

"I'm great. I just need to get cleaned up." And with that she was all business again. His Gillian, ever the practical one. He watched her move around the front of the car, watching her discard her underwear all together. She opened the passenger door and went straight into the compartment, dragging out some tissues. She looked at him and then pointed at his now sadly limp penis with her pinkie before throwing some tissues at his chest. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes and he let some of the tension ooze out of him as he cleaned himself up and went to search in the trunk for some extra jeans. When he came back she was sitting in the driver’s seat, seatbelt on, hands clasped at the wheel, tapping to a silent melody. "I thought maybe you'd appreciate the recovery time." 

As he sat down in what was her seat, he inhaled the heavy scent of sex and rolled down one of the windows when she started the engine. It was going to be a very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! Love you all X


End file.
